


The Awakening of Sleeping Gods

by Reavv



Category: Homestuck, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Breaking the Fourth Wall, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover, Gen, Godstuck, Illustrated, Multi, representation battles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 03:12:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8694136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reavv/pseuds/Reavv
Summary: Where /do/ flames come from?





	

**Author's Note:**

> What is this? I wish I had a fucking clue. 
> 
> I would say sorry but I'm not actually sorry. There's a lot I could say about this story, but I don't even know where to start. 
> 
> For those of you who haven't read homestuck, I'm trying to make it easy for you but I also didn't want to spend five pages explaining things. If I'm missing anything or there's confusion let me know. For those of you who have read homestuck, this is your warning that not 100% of what I'm doing is canon, partly because i need it to fit the story and partly because my memory isn't that good.

The being that will one day be known as Checkerface kneels by the altar, stress lines in his face and fists clenched. There’s a war being fought in his heart but duty, as it always does, presses more firmly than any doubt could ever hope to.

The room is burnished gold, a mosaic of stained glass and crisscrossing cables just out of sight. The glowing monitors now asleep and dark in the setting sun. On the far wall, past gauzy curtains swaying in the breeze, thirteen shadows rest, otherworldly and never changing. Until now.

“My lords,” he says softly, before standing and approaching the lounging figures.

Amused eyes watch him.

“Could you not be persuaded to stay? The balance of the universe...”

“Will keep, as we intend it to. Do not worry your head overmuch, we have made provisions,” a dark voice says, low and thoughtful. He knows it’s owner has elegant features and a smile darker than death. What irony that the God of Light would be the most dangerous.

“Besides!” A cheerful one continues, “with diligent priests like you to tend to things, we're pretty much useless.”

He casts his eyes down to his crest, the interlocking symbols cascading down his clothing in dancing patterns. He has been a priest for most of his life, raised in the cloister that took him in when his parents disappeared. It has been a millennium since, and he is only recently promoted to high priest.

“We have something for you, anyways. A magyk that should help you in your duties as we set off into the dark corners of the universe,” the first voice says, before a cloaked figure daintily steps down from the viewing platform.

“My lord!” He murmurs, fear and awe equally held in his throat as the curtain parts. The Gods rarely reveal themselves, and he knows most of the time the shadows behind the curtain are just fakes to placate the streaming masses.

Dark nails flash, and long fingers take hold of his hand, turning the palm upward.

“We have entrusted in these gems a fraction of our power, frozen in time. One for each guardian of the temple. With these, you should be able to keep the balance of the universe stable without us,” the voice continues. Dark lips flash in a smile, and a wisp of gold spun hair slips past a deep hood.

From the raised platform another shape steps down, red cloth whispering softly as it joins its brethren.

“I mean, unless you screw it up royally and doom us all to the inevitable heat death of the universe, but no pressure.”

—

The priests of the Gods are an old sect, arising from a long held agreement between the new people of Earth and the strange beings who watch over it. Mostly unseen, their existence was unearthed from the stories painted on the old ruins, images of those that came before and how they got there; of those that created the very stitching of space and time and all that resides in it.

Of them, only eight of them were truly Gods. The others—including the one who would eventually take up the mantle of Mind—were mortal beings. Having been imbued with the power of Life, they lived on even after their original death should have come and gone.

It would take years for the beings that inherited the Earth to meet these so-called Gods, but even then there were those who believed. Despite not being a race of beings predisposed towards religion, they were a people who felt deeply about duty and balance. The very idea of the chosen Gods—who looked after the universe without seemingly any compensation—was one that even the more sceptical of them fancied.

It helped that once contact was established, the Gods never once asked to have a following. Indeed, it took an age before they would even accept the most meagre of temples, despite clear evidence towards there being an established religion in the past.

None of that matters anymore, not now that the dominant species on Earth is human, and the only evidence of the Gods a set of softly glowing stones. And of course, the man now known as Kawahira.

—

They awaken one by one, disturbed by the very reality around them. The echoes of something wrong, something out of balance and perverted can be felt in the very air. In the dark areas of space, bright eyes blink open.

“Oh my,” the god of Space mutters, watching the spider cracks in reality crawl across the darkness. Her black hair streams out in an invisible current, stars winking in and out of existence in the inky strands. Her glasses hang off her face like glittering diamonds, big and round like silver crescents. Perhaps the most noticeable, outside of her black and grey outfit resembling something like that of a witch, are the pure white wolf ears poking out of her skull.

“Ugh, didn’t we agree we wouldn’t be doing any more reality breaking?” the god of Mind complains, stretching out beside her fellow god. She slips her red glasses back onto her grey face and she brushes away a lock of hair irritably. The angular horns jutting out of the black strands complement her companion’s headgear nicely.

“We did! This is a real mess. John!” the god of Space yells out, trying to find her brother in the sea of slowly waking bodies.

John, the god of Breath, groans lowly in answer.

“I do think he will be asleep a while longer, Jade,” the god of Light muses, floating near. Her yellow hood tucked over her short blond hair and hiding most of her face. Her black lips are pursed in thought.

“Rose! This isn’t like before, is it? I really hope it isn’t like before,” Jade answers, blinking large eyes at her fellow god.

“This is not a purposeful destruction, no. More likely a symptom of a larger issue. No doubt something to do with our little gifts,” Rose replies, before floating on over to where a slightly glowing figure rests.

“We will need to depart soon, in order to make it in time. Luckily, I see no reason why we all must interfere, so at least some people will be able to rest more,” she says from above her lover.

Below them the enormous gold ship that carried them through years of exile slowly starts stirring, coming out of hibernation just like it’s owners. From the top most tower the glow of rotating planets brightens considerably, until the dark of oblivion is cast in pale light.

“Well fuck me,” the god of Time says, sitting up from his slump against his brother. He knuckles his eyes somewhat robotically before flicking his black shades back onto his nose.

“Dave!” Jade calls, zooming down and floating awkwardly in front of the red figure. She hesitates for a second before throwing herself into him, hugging him quickly.

“Whoa, what is this touchy-feely nonsense, huh?” he mumbles, relaxing into her embrace, “you’re going to make a dude feel loved and shit.”

Jade giggles into his cape and then pulls back.

“Well shucks, buster, wouldn’t want that,” she says, before she turns serious again, “something’s gone wrong with the gems.”

“You mean the magic bullshit Rose made me freeze in time so that, what, the universe wouldn’t explode?” he asks rhetorically, pushing himself up so he’s at her height. Looking out over the rest of the slowly stirring group he lets himself frown.

“Yep! I mean, Rose seems to think that’s what’s going on, and she’s the seer so.”

“Is Terezi up yet? They can do their freaky prophetic thing together,” he turns around, spotting the girl in question as he does so.

“Yo, cool kid,” Terezi calls out, catching his eye. The acid green of her Mind robes faintly glows in the dimness of space, but it is the figure she is dragging behind her that catches his attention.

“Gosh, this is a right ol’ mess,” Jake, god of Hope, says. He’s fingering his pistols like he expects some monster to burst out of the space around them and go on a rampage, which really, isn’t that far-fetched of an idea. Considering however that it’s been, oh, about seventeen thousand years since their last interruption, and none of their previous foes have shown up in that time, it’s not likely either.

“So what’s the plan?” a voice asks from right besides him, and Dave manfully stops himself from jumping.

Dirk, God of Heart, who just a second ago was sleeping peacefully, raises a brow in his direction.

“I’m guessing those awake are going to head to Earth and check it out. We can probably park the ship in cloak mode near one of the moons and be able to keep an eye on everyone that way,” Terezi says with a shrug.

“I vote humans go in first. Easier to blend in,” Jade pipes up, shrugging at the look that gets from the rest of them. At least she can pretend to be a furry and thus just weird, and not get called out for being a candy-horned demon and thus attacked.

“Shouldn’t we wait for everyone to wake up though? I mean, it would not be sporting to have an adventure without the whole gang there,” Jake asks. There’s a few shrugs around the circle, and perhaps the start of an answer, but the mechanical drone of engines starting up interrupts them all.

“All aboard! Destination: Earth 3.0, arrival time: Now,” Rose yells out at them. The flash of multiple flashsteps and other powers being used blinks across the darkness, and then an even brighter light bursts as the ship winks out of existence.

Far, far away, the seven strongest people in the world meet up, for one last time. A man in a mask is preparing for the transfer of power, and the death of an era. A young boy is fighting for his mentor’s sake.

Reality is breaking, and none of them know it.

—

 

This is probably the point that those of you who haven’t read Homestuck are left scratching your head. What are these characters and their weird titles? Why are they dressed so weirdly? How come they’re so powerful, did they really create a whole universe?

The answer is yes, to all of those questions. In fact, you could probably ask any question and the answer would be yes. Is the author actually breaking the fourth wall in something that’s not circa 2007? Yes. Will this fic involve the universe referenced as a frog? Yes. Will there be MSPaint-quality art? Hell yes.

Here’s what we know, as fact:

Sometime in the history of Earth that Was, a game was released to four lucky kids. This game was actually the code of a universe propagation system, and it triggered the end of the Earth, the universe and eventually reality as we know it. The session was doomed from the start however, and in fact the session that previously created the Earth and its universe had failed as well.

It’s a loop, you see. The kids play the game, create themselves, doom themselves and their creators and doom themselves again.

So they scratched the game. Pressed the restart button. But that session was doomed as well. In fact, so many realities, timelines, sessions and characters were doomed you would think there wouldn’t be a happy ending. But the kids, and the aliens that came before them, and the new kids they created, they win. They cheat and hack and eventually, all it takes is a little death and sacrifice.

Four kids. Four more kids. Three aliens. One dad. One Cherub. Survived.

And now here they are, in a world that’s pure and uncorrupted by the games’ machinations. Their reward, if you will. But they didn’t lose the powers they gained through it, didn’t lose their ‘God’ status. And life becomes tedious after so many years where the only people you can ever get close to are clones of yourself or else aliens whose idea of a good idea is LARP scenarios where you can actually die.

So they sleep. They sleep and they leave the custody of this new reality to the people who will actually live in it. Bad idea, teenage Godsters. Bad idea.

As for what waits in the deep, dark spaces of the universe. Well. Code can be broken, it can be corrupted. You can even try to delete it. But as any good programer will know, things stay hidden in cache. And the code to the end of the world is very, very well hidden.

—

Tsuna can’t sleep. There’s nerves, and anxieties, and a quiet but powerful dread that tells him that whatever tomorrow brings, he’s not going to like it. This is all reasonable, since tomorrow the Representation Battles will officially start, and he’s going to have to fight against friends so that Reborn can, maybe, possibly, hopefully, get his body back.

He wants to scream a little about how unfair it is. That only one of the Arcobaleno will be able to return to their bodies, that to decide which one it will be they need to fight each other for it. That somehow, he’s gotten dragged into someone else's problem like usual. That he’ll do it, because of loyalty, because he truly wishes Reborn his body back, because he wants to help.

Because he’s too scared not to.

So he lies shivering in bed, body tired but mind unable to shut down.

He’s drifting a little. Desperate for some sort of rest so that at least he can fight at full strength tomorrow. He’s not really paying any attention to anything but the back of his eyelids. That’s why when a hand grabs his wrist he doesn’t even notice at first, not until fingers pluck delicately at the timer ticking down to tomorrow.

“Wha—” He opens his eyes and pulls back from the hand, flame flickering sluggishly on his forehead as he panics.

There’s a girl in front of him, blonde and wearing a strange orange robe. Her eyes are purple, which is the first thing he notices, besides the fact that there’s a girl in his room and he didn’t even hear her walk in.

“WHO ARE YOU?” he shrieks, clamping a hand over his mouth as soon as the words leave it, eyes frantically moving to the door. The last thing he wants is his mom to wake up and ask what’s going on. Things have been weird enough with the mafia, and Reborn, and the messes both bring.

“That is interesting. I was not sure Jade was correct in her assessment, but you truly do have a sliver of Hope aspect in you. Strange,” the woman says, ignoring him. She leans in closer, eyes on his forehead.

“Who are you? What are you doing here? Is this about the battles?” he hisses in return, leaning away even more.

“Hmm? I guess you could call me the Seer of Light. That is my title. And I am not here for you, exactly, but the trace falls cold in the house and something is blocking me from finding my quarry any further. Something to do with this, perhaps?” She taps his timer with one painted nail.

Tsuna stares at her in bewilderment. Not only did he not understand a thing of what she said, he can’t help notice that she didn’t answer him directly. He’s gotten used to it with Reborn, but that doesn’t mean it’s not frustrating.

There’s static coming through the air and the girl cocks her head a little, before humming.

“Ah yes, I’ve been reminded to ask about these battles of yours. We’ve had conflicting reports from the others, and I have a feeling it could be important if the thread I see coming from your watch is what I think it is,” she says, straightening up a little as she does, Her long figure paces the room slowly, picking up nicknacks off his shelves and putting them down again.

Tsuna can feel his face heat when she delicately plucks a manga volume and turns it to read the back. And then his brain catches on what she said.

“The others? You’ve gone to the other representors?”

“Not me specifically, that would require more time travel than we are willing to use at this point, considering the state of affairs. No, my colleagues have hunted down the other traces and questioned those tied to them. None of them seem that co-operative, for some reason.”

Tsuna snorts before he can stop himself. That’s calling it lightly, considering some of the participants. He can’t see Xanxus willing to answer anyone anything.

“The situation here is strangely difficult to untangle. A hidden mastermind, reticent individuals with aspect-powered abilities, a complete and utter blackout in information in all places that we’ve looked. Truly, if the universe wasn’t at stake I’d almost consider it nostalgic.”

Tsuna’s brain stutters.

“W-What?” He asks, dread already pooling in his stomach. He doesn’t even think to doubt her words.

“Oh, I suppose I should have started with that. How silly of me. The universe is ending, again, and it has something to do with that clock on your wrist. I would appreciate anything you could tell me about it,” the woman says with a smile. Her lips are painted black and they frame a perfect pair of white teeth, making the expression look more like a threat than anything else.

Tsuna gulps, and starts talking.

—

There’s a woman in the base. She’s wearing a caped green tunic and red glasses, and she doesn’t even flinch when Mukuro sends shadows raining her way. To make it more insulting, she waves away the hellfire that follows with nonchalant ease. There’s some sort of illusion hovering over her head and skin, and although he could dispel it, it would require more effort than he is willing to spend without knowing more of her abilities.

Mukuro purses his lips and waves his minions off, watching the girl inspect the room curiously and ignore them completely.

“I would apologize for the decor but somehow I don’t think you mind,” he says slowly, fingering his trident. His smile doesn’t fade, even as she picks up one of Ken’s games and licks it.

“Are you making fun of the blind girl? For shame,” the stranger cackles, picking up another item out of the mess of things his minions collect. From inside his mind he can hear Chrome twitch sharply. He shares her disgust as slobber soon gets all over the miniature owl figurine both of them pretend not to adore.

“Normally when people break into my lair they do so to try and kill me, not to do...whatever you are doing,” he says, striding forward because he doesn’t let strange girls unsettle him in his own home, even if they insist on licking everything he owns.

“Well how else am I supposed to find anything? You wouldn’t want to take away my sight would you?”

Mukuro stops, tapping the end of his trident on the stone floor and tilts his head a little. Some sort of aid then, boosting the other sense to make up for the lack of vision. Or perhaps something to do with pheromones, he thinks with no little distaste as he watches her delicately swipe some dust from the wall and smell it. Not that it really matters; illusions against the blind might require more work, but Mukuro is the strongest Mist in decades. You don’t need sight when you can make physical manifestations.

“Well? Are you going to tell me why you are here? I would prefer to get your death over with before it spoils my appetite,” he sighs eventually when it becomes evident that the girl is still preoccupied with looking unconcerned with the weapons pointed her way.

She cackles again, but turns to face them for the first time. Something about the shape of her mouth unnerves him deeply; her teeth are too sharp to be natural, even comparing it to some like the weasel Varia.

“Better Gods have tried, little human. I would accept the challenge, but unfortunately I am on the clock here, and the judge doesn’t like it when one is late to court. He might get peckish.”

For the first time he notices the walking stick at her side, dragon headed and elegantly finished in a deadly point. He tenses, drawing his trident up more, instincts flaring wide. He hadn’t noticed. Or more to the point, she made him not notice.

“You smell like sparks, little human. I’ve been hunting a criminal for days now, and here the trail grows cold. The great Tyranny himself would bleed me dry if I didn’t at least investigate why.” She leers at him.

Mukuro feels his smile slip. There are many criminals here, he doesn’t say. To hear that she is looking for someone that is not him is not so much a relief as it is an insult. He prefers not to have to deal with other’s enemies if it doesn’t give him a later advantage. Even the representation battles are really just another step in a long line of of them to further his goals.

He gathers his Flames close and plasters the smile on again. She will tell him, once he possesses her, on who she’s chasing and why. And then maybe he’ll send her back to her so called judge and have her kill them, for daring to send someone into his territory. Or she’ll become another spy in his web, it doesn’t really matter.

The sound of metal hitting stone reverberates through the room, the girl tapping her cane a few times before she smiles unsettlingly again. In her other hand she flips a coin a few times, idly.

“Oh, we can’t have that, little human. But I’ve got what I want from here, and when the resident mistress of all that is dark and evil says that reality is crumbling once again, one learns to work with haste. Be seeing you!”

He strikes, faster than she should be able to dodge, from behind where he has been lurking the whole time. His doppleganger disappears into smoke, but the girl is suddenly gone, no flash or flame or evidence of an illusion at work. His trident doesn’t even catch on the odd fabric of her tunic.

He straightens from his lunge and looks out the window, where a small speck is flittering about. Although not the strangest encounter he’s ever had, it was certain up there. And the uneasiness in his gut doesn’t disperse at all with the knowledge that she had to know she was talking to a fake, considering how fast she was able to dodge the attack from behind.

To be able to sense Mukuro’s illusions, even if she is blind, means she has to be extremely powerful.

—

“I thought we agreed to have only the humans investigate?” Jade asks sardonically, pencil digging into her night black hair, messy bun her only concession to the delicate work she’s doing on the ship. Readouts and graphs are spread out around her, but it is the slightly glowing holographic display that she’s most concerned with.

“And let you have all the fun?” Terezi asks, leaning closely and sniffing Jade’s hair, a curious noise in the back of her throat at the graphite-wood of the pencil. Jade hides her smile in her hand. Sometimes it’s the most primitive technology that has the Trolls stumbling.

“If it was anyone else they would have asked why your skin is grey and you have horns, but I guess since it worked out—” They’re interrupted by the sound of one of the Gods sleeping in the research hub groaning, and Jade looks up hopefully before sighing when John does nothing more but turn over and snore. Her brother has always been a deep sleeper though, and she tries not to let it affect her.

“He’ll wake,” Terezi says with certainty, and Jade smiles at her. Although Rose might be the more accurate seer, in this she knows Terezi is right. John is too stubborn not to, and no matter the mess he’s always in the middle of it at the end.

“Well let's hope it’s soon, according to what I can find we don’t have a lot of time on our hands. Space is already warping in the corners of the Furthest Ring, and I still can’t tell why. Our presence alone should prevent that,” she complains.

A small chime from her computer pulls both their attention, and Jade is courteous enough to pull up another screen so that Terezi can lick the writing.

“Hmm, well Rose has once again been the most resourceful of all of us, but from what I can tell this Tsunayoshi Sawada does not actually know all that much. Or at least Rose is holding something back.”

“ ‘His fear is true but he has enough loyalty to not give me the heart of the matter, only that the fighting on the morrow will be important. I have gathered that he has a teacher he wishes to defend and so even though he does not like to fight he will.’ What is this, one of Rose’s weird wizard novels?” A voice asks from behind, and they turn to see Dave reading over their shoulders.

“Hey cool kid,” Terezi says with a shark grin and accepts the hello fist bump he presents to her.

“How’d it go?” Jade asks before they can get into their weird broship rituals. Even after the breakup both of them are weirdly co-dependent, even if it took a few decades to get back to it.

Dave slumps into a chair and shrugs, fingers moving along an invisible turntable.

“The sprites didn’t say anything but cryptic bullshit, and I was emphatically told it wouldn’t be smart to try and jump ahead and read the spoilers, so no easy solution there.”

Jade sighs, but it’s not something she thought would actually work. If it’s something big there’s usually no way around it but through nitty gritty work, the kind that might require some big sacrifice or at least the changing of a worldview or two.

“So far I’ve tracked seven signatures that strongly resonate as the Aspect gems we made. But there’s hundreds of smaller traces as well, and even a few duplicates. The machine is trying to track them all down but there’s no way to figure out which ones will know the most,” she says as she turns back to Rose’s report.

It’s true it reads more flowery than most, but considering both Dave’s and Dirk’s will devolve into rap randomly and it’s statistically impossible to ever get Jake to stay on topic, she doesn’t actually mind.

“The illusionist didn’t know a lot, his head was so stuffed with plans and plots that there really wasn’t enough room for anything else. Had a weird connection to a someone else though, some sort of mental link,” Terezi pipes up.

Jade and Dave trade looks. Mental links are never a good thing, in their books. That’s the realm of the Serkets and Lord English, neither of which are alive thankfully.

“Well, we’ll keep a close eye on him then, but it’s looking more and more like whatever showdown is going on tomorrow is our next starting point.”

“What about other Cool Kid and the funny one?” Terezi asks, pointedly tilting her head to where the player surveillance screen rests propped up against Jade’s desk.

“Probably making out and then getting either decapitated or stabbed,” Dave snorts, dodging the swipe Jade sends his way.

“Dirk is working on hacking some really protected servers, since Roxy isn’t up to do it herself right now. And Jake is doing what he does best: shooting things that probably shouldn’t be shot at.”

Dave pauses.

“Wait, what?”

—

The old temple of the Gods is buried under piles and piles of rock and dirt, hidden from prying eyes by ages old enchantments and long since abandoned. Jake can’t help but think it looks quite a bit like any other of the dungeons they’ve raided in the past.

“Well old chum,” he says to the mechanical tinker bull on his shoulder, “I do think we are in a pickle.”

The old but not decayed Guardian of the temple roars at them, large cleaver like sword pried from the stone and thrust forward. Jake jumps back, guns already at the ready, and prepares himself for the fight. Maybe someone else would wonder at the irony of a guardian fighting against the Gods it is supposed to be protecting, but Jake just feels that sliver of joy/fear of a good fight.

God but does he love a good fight.


End file.
